


A caged bird, too scared to sing

by tonystarkpunchme



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Aunt May is a BAMF as usual, Child Abuse, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, I don't even know who's going to end up being featured and who won't, I knew I was gonna have to add more tags, I promise it won't be all dark af, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other characters I'm too lazy to list, Peter Parker has crippling social anxiety, There will be fluff, and I'm too lazy to go back in and get this into any sort of cohesive order so, because like I said we're really just winging it here, eventually, if I ever figure out what ships I want to write, probably, those tags probably all should've gone at the beginning but do I care? NO, we're just all gonna have to deal, we're really just winging it here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-07-11 07:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15967859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystarkpunchme/pseuds/tonystarkpunchme
Summary: Avery Stark is...kind of a mess.Sure, he hides it well- he did, after all, learn from the best. And it doesn't hurt that from an outside perspective, he's doing pretty well for himself: good grades, genuine friends, a brother who would move heaven and earth for him, and- of course- money. Lots of that. But at the end of the day, he still has a façade you could cut through with a butterknife, a laundry list of unhealthy coping mechanisms, and the scars to show it.Peter Parker, meanwhile, is doing his best. Seriously, everyone, cut him some slack- he's an awkward little bean and he's trying really hard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know that the super-angsty title and most of the summary and 95% of the tags won't make any sense after this first chapter. I promise that is just because I'm really slow at developing plot elements and I do actually have all of this somewhat planned out (although if everything hasn't at least started to come together at the end of chapter 3 I'm just gonna jump off a bridge lol)

High school really wasn’t living up to Peter’s expectations.

 

OK, so it wasn’t horrible. There were some positives. But really, it was just...more of the same. The building was a little bit nicer and the people were a little bit older and the classes were a little bit harder and the hallways were a little bit louder, and Peter would’ve thought all those little differences would add up to _something_ meaningful, but-

 

Nope.

 

Then again, it was only the second week of classes. Maybe things would get more interesting. Ned had managed to pester him into joining Star Wars Club (well, maybe that hadn’t taken quite as much convincing as he’d like to admit) and the first academic team meeting was due to start in…

 

Peter checked his watch. 4 minutes.

 

The door stared him down. He really should just walk in...but the meeting was supposed to start in at 4:05. Would it be weird to walk in right on time? Maybe he should wait until 4:08 or 4:10, be fashionably late or something- but then the meeting could start at 4:05 sharp and he’d barge in on the middle of something-

 

Or maybe he could just stand here and overthink the incredibly basic social ritual of walking into a room until May arrived to pick him up. Ned would’ve just grabbed him and dragged him into the room, but he was at home with a cold.

 

He checked his watch again. 2 minutes. This was fucking ridiculous.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Startled, Peter whipped around, cursing under his breath as his backpack swung into the wall with a loud thump. He stepped away from the wall, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment, and turned towards the source of the voice - a tall girl with frizzy brown hair and a look of mild disdain. “I’m, uh, waiting for the academic team meeting to start?”

 

“It’s 4:04,” replied the girl.

 

“The meeting starts at 4:05,” Peter muttered. The girl snorted quietly and strode towards the door, and Peter - feeling like a complete and utter idiot - followed her, muttering a quiet “thanks” when she held the door open for him.

 

A wave of chatter swept over him as he stepped into the room. Clustered in the front of the room was a small group of kids, some sitting in chairs and some perched atop desks, all talking animatedly. The girl nearest to the door was the first to notice the new arrivals - she flashed a grin at Peter before turning back to face the gaggle of kids. Unsure, Peter drifted towards a desk one row over from her and placed his backpack down. Goddamn Ned and his goddamn cold - he should’ve just waited until next week to come, really, Ned may have been just as awkward as him but at least he’d have someone familiar.

 

Three loud claps jerked Peter out of his thoughts. With a start, he turned his focus back to the front of the room, where the conversation had died down and one of the boys was...standing on a chair? He looked familiar, too - messy brown hair, electric blue eyes, a slightly oversized leather jacket - maybe he was in one of Peter’s classes, although he had a strange feeling that he recognized him from somewhere else.

 

“Alright, everybody shut up, it’s the first meeting of the year which means we have to act at least somewhat professional and not scare off the new faces,” the boy declared, rubbing his hands together - and wow, he even _sounded_ familiar - “speaking of which, I have been informed that there are only three people joining us this year, which is pretty disappointing but also means I only have to memorize two new names and faces, so, silver linings.” The words spilled out of his mouth in a distinctively scattershot cadence and he practically vibrated with nervous energy and Peter could swear to Christ that he recognized him-

 

“My name’s Tony, by the way,” the boy said, and Peter knew who it was.

 

Tony fucking Stark was a part of Midtown High’s academic team.

 

“-and I’m the president of academic team - well, self-appointed, but I don’t think anyone’s gonna argue with that,” alright, cool, Tony fucking Stark was the goddamn _president_ of Midtown High’s academic team and sure, Peter vaguely remembered the media furor about the heir to one of the biggest companies in the world going to a public high school, but really?

 

“So uh, I see one of our newbies is back there,” Tony gestured to the back of the room and Peter realized with a start that he’d been staring in his disbelief. “And another one...oh, there he is!” And suddenly there were twenty-plus pairs of eyeballs pointed directly at Peter, who shifted awkwardly in his seat and focused on a crumb on the carpet. “You guys can sit a little closer, we don’t bite.”

 

Inwardly cursing his ridiculous social anxiety, Peter grabbed his backpack and squeezed between two desks to sit down next to the girl who’d noticed him earlier. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the frizzy-haired girl trudge over and drop into the seat behind him.

 

“Much better!” Tony grinned at him, and Peter couldn’t help but smile weakly back. “Alright, so what are your names?”

 

There was a heavy second of silence as both of them waited for the other to introduce themselves, and then the girl broke it. “Michelle,” she said shortly.

 

Tony nodded. “Nice to meet you, Michelle,” he said, before turning back to Peter. “And you?” he asked.

 

“I’m, uh. I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” Fucking hell, he even managed to fuck up a simple introduction. He opened his mouth to say something else- a dumb joke, maybe, those were good icebreakers, right?- before thinking better of it and closing it with a soft clop.

 

Tony didn’t seem to notice the painful amounts of cringe, though- he simply grinned and sat back down atop the desk, grabbing a laptop from his bag and balancing it precariously on his knees. “Well then, welcome to academic team, Michelle and Peter Parker! And Avery too, I guess, but you already know all of my friends so you don’t really count.” A ripple of laughter ran through the room as a boy bearing a striking resemblance to Tony rolled his eyes and lobbed a paper airplane at him. Tony ignored it, continuing, “Meetings are gonna be pretty laid-back for the first few weeks, we’ll basically just do free-for-alls while the new people get settled in and we figure out everyone’s strengths and such. I assume both of you are familiar with the NAQT formats and everything?,” the last question directed towards Peter and Michelle.

 

They both nodded, and Tony grinned, rubbing his hands together before leaning forward to peer at his laptop screen. “Awesome!,” he enthused, “let’s get started then. First tossup…”

 

Peter kind of slipped into auto-pilot after that, filing away faces and names as they were brought up. The girl next to him was Jane, sitting behind her was Hope, the boy with shaky hands was Stephen, the skinny blond with a sketchbook in his lap was Steve (that was going to get confusing real fast), the girl towards the back with immaculate braids was Shuri, the tall jock with long hair was Thor and the curly-haired boy tucked under his arm was Bruce.

 

And...there were other people there too, Peter didn’t catch everyone’s names, sue him.

 

Before he realized it, Tony was putting the laptop away and thanking everyone for coming. Peter frowned - May had said she would call him when she arrived to pick him up, but his phone had lay dormant in his pocket the whole time. A quick glance up at the clock told him why - it was only 5:32.

 

“I thought the meeting ended at 6?” he asked, turning to Tony, who looked up from his backpack and around the fast-emptying room for a few seconds before his gaze landed on Peter.

 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, they usually do but there’s some sportsball thing going on at 7 tonight and I didn’t want everyone to have to deal with the traffic,” he explained.

 

Peter grimaced. “Shit.”

 

A frown creased Tony’s face, before his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, fuck, do you not have a ride until 6? Fuck, I didn’t even think about that,” he babbled, practically tripping over his own apologetic words, “I, uh, I can stay here with Avery until you get picked up? If you don’t want to wait by yourself, if you do that’s fine, obviously.”

 

Peter stared. The only other person he’d ever heard ramble that neurotically was...well, himself.

 

“Um. Sure? Yeah- yeah, I’d appreciate that.” The moment the words were out of his mouth he was kicking himself, but it was too late to take them back - Tony flashed a grin at him, before turning to the door.

 

“Hey, Avery-”

 

“I heard you,” interrupted a voice to Peter’s right. Looking over, he saw a boy - the one who’d thrown the paper airplane at Tony at the beginning of the meeting - setting his bag down and hopping up onto the desk next to him, before leaning forward and extending a hand. “I’m Avery, in case you hadn’t already figured it out.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Peter said, taking the hand and shaking. He was struck by just how much Avery looked like a younger version of Tony - same unruly hair, same bright blue eyes, same lanky build. They had to be brothers or something, he figured, a conclusion quickly reinforced by Tony as he clambered over a desk to sit next to Avery and casually threw an arm around his shoulders.

 

“So, what’d you guys think?,” he asked.

 

Avery hummed noncommittally and shrugged, pushing Tony’s arm off and earning himself a pout and a light flick on the temple. Peter chuckled nervously.

 

Everyone’s already friends with each other and he doesn’t know how to talk to any of them and they’re also all way smarter than he is, he didn’t get a single tossup and he’s gonna stick around because the people seem nice but really what’s the point, that’s what he wanted to say.

 

He chose to go with a simple “it was fun,” instead. Much simpler. More normal.

 

Avery frowns. “You don’t sound very convinced.”

 

Well, so much for normal. Peter opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, closed it, opened it again-

 

“I get it,” said Tony softly, and Peter froze.

 

“I was terrified when I joined freshman year,” he continued, “I felt out of place, surrounded by strangers. And I got, what- two tossups, I think? One physics and one engineering.”

 

“More than me,” Peter muttered.

“Sure, but when I joined, Rhodey and Carol were the only good players in the whole club. When you joined, well…”

 

Avery chimed in. “Shuri was second place at nats last year, as a _freshman_. And Bruce was, what, eighth?”

 

“Sixth,” corrected Tony. “Point is, Peter, you walked into a room full of geniuses, all of whom have at least one more year of experience than you.” He grinned at Peter, who smiled back nervously. “Don’t feel bad about not getting any tossups, you’ll get better before you know it.”

 

“I hope so,” Peter responded. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder if the older boy was being genuine, but he pushed that aside- he’s trying to be reassuring, he told himself, just go with it. Assuming the worst of everybody else wouldn’t get him anywhere.

 

Tony, oblivious to Peter’s inner conflict, reached over to clap him on the shoulder. “You will, trust me,” he assured him, and not even Peter’s most crippling insecurities could cast aspersions on his sincerity.

 

Why was Tony Stark, of all people, being so kind to a random freshman he’d met less than 2 hours ago?

 

With a start, Peter realized that Tony was speaking again- “So, what are you good at?,” he asked, before frowning and making an ineffectual gesture with his hands. “I mean, like, what do you know a lot about- like, what subject- you know what I mean.”

 

Next to him, Avery snorted and jostled his knee against Tony’s. “Eloquent.”

 

Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh, science? Chemistry in particular, I guess. Although I haven’t, like, memorized the periodic table or anything.” He frowned thoughtfully. Maybe he should get on that...or maybe it’d be completely ridiculous, who knows. Dismissing the thought with a small shrug, he’d ask, “What about you guys?”

 

“Tony pretty much knows everything,” Avery answered quickly, “and I- hey!” The exclamation was torn from him as an exasperated-looking Tony once again flicked him in the temple.

 

“Please excuse my little brother, he’s a tool,” he groaned- said tool lightly shoved him off the desk, rolling his eyes- “who for some reason has decided his duty is to plant in everybody the false idea that I’m some sort of savant.” Dutifully ignoring Avery, who was now sticking his tongue out at him, Tony shook his head. “I know physics, math, and some classical music, and Avery knows a lot about plays and musicals.”

 

“But not as much as Thor,” added Avery with a grimace, “which was a surprise.”

Peter nodded in agreement- he certainly wouldn’t have pegged the tall, muscular boy as a theater geek. A thought struck him, and he turned back to Tony. “You said Shuri and Bruce placed at nationals last year, right? What about you?”

 

A shadow flits across Tony’s face and his shoulders sag a little. “I, uh, couldn’t go,” he mutters.

 

Surprised, Peter started to inquire as to why, but Avery narrowed his eyes and made a terse gesture and he decided that maybe that particular line of questioning wasn’t the best idea.

 

The silence stretched out for an uncomfortable few seconds, before Tony cleared his throat awkwardly and sat up straight again. “...Anyways!” He clapped his hands together, plastering on a grin that even Peter could see was forced. “Enough of my dramatic ass, yeah? I, uh- conversation.” He turned to Avery, slinging his arm back around his brother’s shoulders. “Help me out, buddy, you’re the social butterfly here.”

 

Avery rolled his eyes, pressing his lips together before a laugh spilled out from between them and he shook his head. “God, you’re such a dork...and I’m not a social butterfly, I’m just slightly more adept at carrying normal human conversations.” He turned back to Peter with an amused huff. “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this onslaught of weirdness,” he said sheepishly, “but..I mean, the other people in academic team aren’t a whole lot saner, so I guess it’s a preparation of sorts.”

 

Peter shrugged, still a bit uncertain glad the tension seemed to have resolved itself. “No need to apologize...I’m, uh, not the most, like? Normal person either, I guess. If you couldn’t already tell…” He trailed off, and Avery grinned.

 

“Awkward stuttering about your perceived social ineptitudes...yeah, you’ll fit right in.”

 

Tony spluttered. “What the...jeez, Avery, I can’t tell if that was a compliment or a savage insult-”

 

“For what it’s worth, I took it as a compliment,” interjected Peter, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

“We’ll call it a compliment for Peter and a savage insult towards everyone else in academic team,” responded Avery cheekily, “and for the record, you’re also miles ahead of pretty much everyone in the self-awareness department, which I’m sure counts for something.”

 

Peter laughed and Tony raised his eyes to the heavens, sighing melodramatically. “I humbly beseech you to assist me and this is what I get-”

 

“Anyways, Peter, you’re a freshman too, right?,” continued Avery, steamrollering right over his brother- the resigned look on Tony’s face made it clear he’d been long-suffering from this sort of affront- “What classes are you taking?”

 

It took a couple seconds for Peter to answer, preoccupied as he was by his effort to not burst out laughing at Tony’s look of righteous anger. “I, um.” He pursed his lips, fighting to keep his amusement under control. “I’m in AP Chemistry, AP World History, uh…” It was really quite amazing how two weeks into school he still had trouble remembering what classes he was in. “English 1, Computer Programming 1, Math Analysis, and...fuck, what’s the last one…” He frowned, snapping his fingers, before it came to him - “Chinese,” he exclaimed triumphantly, that’s the one.”

 

“I take it Chinese is not particularly memorable,” Avery replied drolly, and Peter snorted.

 

“Yeah, it’s…’the worst’ would be a little melodramatic, I guess, but it’s incredibly boring. A fantastic cure for insomnia,” he responded, chuckling quietly at his own lame joke (because _someone_ has to appreciate the effort he put into that, right?) and shrugging. “Could be worse, I guess. What about you?”

 

“AP Music Theory, CP Biology, English 1, American History, Philosophy, and Italian,” Avery rattled off quickly, “so, much less intellectually rigorous.” He grinned self-deprecatingly. “The STEM gene seems to have skipped me.”  


Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t even know that half of those classes existed,” he marveled. “Why Italian?”

 

“Because it’s an easy A and he’s lazy as fuck,” Tony chimed in, to which Avery promptly responded by leaning over and plucking Tony’s phone from his pocket.

 

“Easy- wait, you guys speak Italian?” Peter asked incredulously

 

The fond (albeit exasperated) smile on Tony’s face faltered and the hand grappling with his brother dropped back to his side. “Our, uh. Our mother spoke it.”

 

Peter blinked. “Oh,” he mouthed silently- and before he had time to properly respond to or even fully comprehend the implications of that statement, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he jumped. “Shit! Aunt May must be here early, I should probably get going, sorry for making you guys wait,” he babbled out, hastily grabbing his backpack while the two Starks watched him, nonplussed- OK, so they thought he was a weirdo, that’s fine, he’d literally told them that just a few minutes ago-

 

Tony broke out into another forced-looking grin and waved off the apology. “You’re fine, Peter, we’d walk out with you if Avery would just _give me my phone back!_ ” He punctuated the last word with a dramatic lunge towards his brother, who held the phone up and out of reach, laughing- Peter stood and watched for just long enough to come off as mildly creepy before shaking himself and heading off. A faint “have a good weekend, Peter!” emanated from the classroom a few seconds after his exit and he paused, smiling.

 

All things considered, that had gone better than expected.

  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the angst begins!!! it only took me like 4 months to write
> 
> I know this is already in the tags, but I want to reiterate because ch. 1 and the beginning of this chapter are disarmingly fluffy: BIG CONTENT WARNING. BIG FAT CONTENT WARNING. STAY SAFE BLS

“Have a good weekend, Peter!,” Avery shouted out the classroom door, relinquishing his grip on his brother’s phone and sliding off the desk he was perched on. He wondered briefly if the other boy had heard him or not, before shrugging and scooping up his backpack.

 

Next to him, Tony did the same and then reached out to grab Avery’s hand, tugging him gently toward the door. “Time to go, kiddo.”  
  
Avery rolled his eyes, letting Tony lead him out of the classroom. “I’m almost fifteen, Tony, you don’t have to hold my hand,” he muttered, as if they hadn’t had this exact conversation about eighty times in the last few months. “Or call me kiddo.”

 

Tony responded, like he always did, with a quick “no matter how old you get, you’ll always be my idiot kid brother,” and Avery responded to that, like _he_ always did, with another exaggerated roll of the eyes and a resigned huff. Not like he really minded it, anyways...it could feel mildly patronizing, sure, but it was also weirdly reassuring. Just like everything else about Tony. Somehow, being around his neurotic, jittery, awkward older brother made Avery feel about 10 times more comfortable in his own skin.

 

He was (literally) jostled out of his reverie by a light shoulder-bump from Tony, who was now giving him a conspiratorial grin. “So, you wanna go play another round of ‘how many people in McDonalds recognize us?’” he asked, and Avery snorted.

 

“How many people recognize _you_ , you mean,” he responded, “and sure, although I can’t believe you still find this amusing.”

 

Especially since Howard hates it, he added mentally.

 

Of course, he knew Tony revelled in his small acts of rebellion- and his not-so-small ones that he tried his damnedest to keep Avery from knowing about, although Avery wasn’t about to call him out on that. And it was undeniably fun reading the hyperbolically shocked Instagram captions about the third-richest teenager in the country slumming it in a fast food joint in the middle of Queens.

 

They exited the building just in time to see Peter clambering into a car, Avery reflexively raising his free hand in farewell (it, unsurprisingly, went unnoticed). Tony chuckled and jostled their shoulders together again. “What’d you think?”

 

“Of Peter?” Avery shrugged nonchalantly. “He seemed sweet. Nice having other freshmen around.”

 

“Also, he’s cute,” Tony commented, and Avery whipped around to stare at him, wide-eyed.

 

“Jesus _fuck_ , Tony, please tell me you are only saying that for my benefit.”

(Also, he was right. Which was totally, absolutely irrelevant.)

 

Tony backed up a step, holding his hands up defensively. “Holy shit, yes, I would never-” A sharp bark of incredulous laughter escaped him and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Avery, did you actually, seriously think I would go after a freshman?” he asked, and Avery breathed out a sigh of relief. “He can’t be older than 15,” Tony continued, “that’d be creepy as fuck, and I’ve kinda got my eye on someone else anyways, so…”

 

“Good to know,” Avery muttered. And it was, for the one single reason that it would, indeed, be creepy as fuck for his 18-year-old brother to be leering at a cute freshman. There were definitely no other reasons. Tony shifted uncomfortably next to him, but he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice, and it wasn’t until they had reached the car (why, oh why, did Tony insist on parking in the furthest available spot) that the last words of that long, rambling sentence finally registered.

 

“So,” he started, and Tony froze with his hand halfway out of his pocket, fingers fumbling awkwardly with the keys.

 

Avery grinned, fingers drumming absentmindedly on the roof of the car. “Am I crazy, or did I hear you say you had your eye on someone else?,” he asked, and Tony groaned melodramatically, recovering from his temporary paralysis to unlock the door and collapse into the driver’s seat.

 

“I was hoping I didn’t actually say that last bit out loud,” he muttered, barely audible, before he reached over to unlock Avery’s door as well. “And yes, I did say that, and yes, it is exactly who you think it is.”  


Avery fastened his seatbelt with a quiet click before sitting back and smirking. “Tony, you’ve pined after so many people I can’t keep track of who you’ve gotten over and who you haven’t.”

 

Tony spluttered, turning bright red and making an erratic gesture with his hands. “Wh- tell me _one person_ I have ‘pined over,’ you smug asshole-”

 

“Only one?” Avery cut him off, rolling his eyes lazily. “God, Tones, your denial about this is ridiculous...Tiberius until he grew up to be a gaping asshole, Rhodey until you met Pepper, Pepper for, like, the entire first half of high school,” he counted off on his fingers, watching with amusement as Tony grew more and more embarrassed with every name. “And now...is it Steve? I bet it’s Steve.” Steve Rogers, who blushed at the drop of the hat and was incredibly low-key savage and was also a freakishly talented artist...yeah. He really couldn’t judge Tony for that- hell, if the guy wasn’t four years his senior he’d probably have a crush on him too.

 

Tony huffed childishly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “You don’t get to call me out for that when you had a ridiculous schoolboy crush on Shuri for all of last year,” he muttered sulkily. Avery drew in a breath to respond that yeah, that happened, but that was one hopeless crush to Tony’s four so what’s his point- but Tony continued before he could begin his rejoinder. “And yes, I have a stupid gay crush on Steve fucking Rogers, very observant.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “One day, someone will actually reciprocate, and if that day doesn’t come soon I’m going to jump off a bridge.”

 

“He stares at your ass,” commented Avery drily.

 

He couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the immediate, shocked reaction that provoked from Tony, who very nearly jumped out of his seat and whipped around to stare at Avery. “He _what?!_ ” he spluttered incredulously, before shaking his head and narrowing his eyes. “...You’re fucking with me,” he accused, jabbing a finger into Avery’s shoulder before turning his attention back to starting the car. “Don’t you forget, asshole, I drive you everywhere and so help me God I will abandon you at Midtown High if you give me false hopes like that again-”

 

“I’m not giving you false hopes!,” Avery protested. “He actually, blatantly stares at your ass all the time. Like, literally half of the meeting today he was staring at your ass.” He chuckled. “Why do you think he missed that Degas tossup?”

 

Tony huffed again, slinging an arm over the back of Avery’s seat as he backed out. “I do not accept that explanation.”

 

“Well, it’s true.” Avery shook his head in disbelief. “Why don’t you just ask him out? You guys have been friends since sixth grade, the worst that can happen is he says no and then two days later everything’s back to normal.”  


A long sigh escaped Tony, before he reached down to grab the aux cord and hand it to Avery. “You’re probably right. Now please, put on your weird terrible music so I don’t have to feel like I’m being schooled by a fourteen-year-old.”

 

Avery laughed, taking the cord and plugging it in. “Radiohead’s not terrible, you just have no taste,” he replied, to which Tony simply snorted. Avery stuck his tongue out at him in response, and Tony reached over to flick him in the temple, and- yeah. They were mature, responsible teenagers.

 

___

  


Very mature and very responsible.

 

Which, obviously, meant that they were now idling outside a Sonic at 11:34 pm, sharing a watermelon slushie and scrolling through Tony’s Instagram notifications.

 

“You’d think by now people would stop being shocked by your presence,” Avery observed wryly as Tony typed out comments. “How long have we been doing this for?”

 

“Seven months,” responded Tony. “And in fairness, about half of the captions are less ‘I can’t believe the Stark kids are in McDonalds’ and more ‘I can’t believe I actually saw the Stark kids in McDonalds.’” He sighed, putting the phone to sleep with a click and turning to Avery. “We really should go back home, kiddo.”

 

Avery groaned and sat back, grabbing the styrofoam cup from Tony’s hand and slurping up the last bit of neon-colored artificial flavoring. “You’re right, but also fuck that and I hate it,” he muttered sulkily around the straw.

 

“Avery…”

 

No need to be nervous, Tony was with him and besides, it was so late that Howard was probably already asleep. Unconsciously, he bit down, flattening the end of the straw. No need to be nervous, no need to be nervous.

 

(Howard drank nearly every Friday)

 

“Hey, buddy.” Tony reached over to gently shake his shoulder, expression softening from mild exasperation to concern. “You alright?”

 

Avery wrenched his jaw open, teeth marks embedded in the mangled mess of soft plastic.

 

It took him a second to register Tony’s hand on the back of his neck, thumb tracing small circles over his spine. “Hey,” he said softly, warmly, “I- we don’t have to go back if you don’t want to, we can crash at Thor’s again, you know he won’t mind-”

 

“No,” Avery interrupted, “we can go home, it’s fine- sorry, I’m sorry, I’m fine.”

 

(He’d been telling himself that for years)

 

Tony pursed his lips, looking as if he might argue, but after a few seconds of Avery resolutely avoiding his gaze he just shrugged defeatedly. “If you say so. But if Howard’s still awake when we get back, we’re fucking off to Thor’s.”

 

Avery nodded tiredly, which seemed to be good enough for Tony. He gave Avery a small, sad smile, and they drove back to the house with silence heavy in the air and that look fixed on his face.

 

___

 

Saturday was a Bad Day.

 

Avery knew the moment he woke up to JARVIS’s cool, robotic voice informing him that it was 8:32 a.m. and Howard had left for a board meeting. He dragged himself out of bed, brushed his teeth, stood in the shower and watched water spiral down the drain, all the while trying to ignore the dull ache in the center of his chest.

 

“Sir,” JARVIS intoned suddenly, and Avery jumped, very nearly losing his balance on the slippery tile and cursing under his breath. “Sir, I apologize for startling you, but you have been in the shower for approximately thirty minutes. It appears that you are going through another minor depressive episode.”

 

“Yeah, no shit,” Avery muttered under his breath. He sighed and turned off the water, stepping out and grabbing a towel. Best to just try and be productive, get his mind on a better track and hope it stayed there.

 

(It never did)

 

Stop it, he chided himself. Negative thinking is worthless, you know that, you do it all the time, this is why you can’t get anything done, this is why-

 

“I’m doing it again, J,” he croaked out.

 

“Would you like me to notify Sir?” the AI responded promptly, and Avery nodded.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I just- I need to get dressed,” he said, pulling himself up from the wall he didn’t realized he’d been leaning on for support. The towel dropped to the floor as he walked shakily over to his dresser, and his chest _hurt,_ and the underwear he was pulling on was sticking to his damp legs and then the pants did the same thing and the tears that burned behind his eyes were starting to leaking out and this was stupid, stupid, _stupid-_

 

The door opened and there were fast footsteps muffled by the thick carpet and then a hand on his shoulder, and somehow he’d ended up sitting with a knob digging into his back and his knees pulled up to his chest and his head in his hands, so he looked up and Tony looked back at him, concern writ large in his eyes.

 

“Tony,” he whispered, and that was as far as he got before the dam broke and he burst into full-fledged sobbing.

 

He was quickly pulled into a tight hug. “It’s OK,” Tony said softly, “it’s alright, Avery, everything’s alright, you’re safe, there’s nothing here to be afraid of…” He trailed off, and Avery allowed himself a few more seconds to bury his face in the warmth of Tony’s shirt before pulling away. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out quietly, “I shouldn’t- this is stupid, there’s- there’s nothing wrong, I’m just...no reason-”  


“Don’t apologize,” Tony whispered, and Avery nodded miserably and he hated it because it was the same damn spiel, every single time, but none of them knew how to deal with it any better so they sat in silence and Tony squeezed his hand comfortingly and he breathed in, breathed out, forced the sob back down his throat, breathed in, breathed out. Nothing here to be afraid of.

 

“I have so much homework,” he muttered hoarsely once the shuddering gasps subsided, and Tony laughed, short and nervous. The tension fizzled.

 

“You want help with it?”

 

“Yeah.”  


“Alright.”

 

The tears dried on Avery’s cheeks and his heartbeat slowly returned to normal and they sat there on the carpet in a comfortable silence. These moments were ones to treasure- the ones where neither of them felt the need to be “on,” luxuries they were afforded between breakdowns and late-night fast food runs and board meetings. Where Tony’s nervous tics smoothed out and Avery didn’t instinctively twist every observation into a quip. Where it was shy and quiet because both of them were so accustomed to the walls they held up as a matter of survival that even around each other, casting the façades aside felt like exposing a raw nerve.

 

“Sir,” JARVIS broke the silence, “it is 10:00 a.m. and neither you nor Mini-Sir have eaten yet.”

 

Avery groaned, letting Tony pull him to his feet and then lightly shoving a shoulder into his chest. “You said you’d have him stop calling me that.”

 

Tony’s look of false contrition quickly dissolved into a small grin. “I, uh, haven’t gotten around to reprogramming that particular protocol?”

 

“J,” Avery sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling, “please refer to me as either ‘Sir’ or ‘Avery.”

 

“Apologies, Mini-Sir,” the AI responded primly, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Tony coughed explosively, and Avery side-eyed him as he pressed his lips together in an obvious attempt to stifle laughter.  


“Very funny, Tony,” he grumbled, letting go of his brother’s hand to stride over to the door, holding it open for him and then following him out. “So, breakfast.”

 

“Breakfast,” Tony agreed, clutching the railing as he made his way slowly down the stairs, and Avery noticed for the first time that he looked utterly exhausted.

 

“...When did you wake up this morning?”

 

“Uh…4:30? I think?” Tony shrugged nonchalantly. “I wasn’t really paying attention to the clock.”

 

Avery stared. “You’ve been up for five and half hours, running on four hours of sleep, and you _haven’t eaten_?”

 

Tony laughed and hopped from the third step to the floor, before turning around and spreading his arms. “What can I say? Coffee is a magical thing.” He frowned as Avery, rolling his eyes, ducked under his left arm to head toward the kitchen. “Food is probably in order, though.”

 

“Yeah, no shit.”

 

___

  


The ache returned a few hours later, and suddenly, the words in Avery’s philosophy textbook were swimming before his eyes and he closed it with a loud thump. Tony’s gaze snapped up from the papers he’d been poring over and he frowned. “You OK?”

 

Avery shook his head, chair scraping quietly against the tiles as he rose to his feet. “I need a fucking break,” he muttered, “I’m just-”

 

He cut himself off in surprise as Tony stood up as well, pushing his chair in and groaning melodramatically. “God, same, I was about to keel over from the boredom…” He drew out the last syllable just enough to sound utterly ridiculous, and Avery raised an eyebrow.

 

“...Are you acting like a buffoon on purpose or is this just the caffeine?”

 

“Bit of both.” Tony clapped his hands together peremptorily, and Avery cracked a small grin in spite of himself. “So, uh, break! We should take a break. Preferably one that involves leaving this house.” He bounded over to the counter to grab his phone. “I’ll text the groupchat, see if anyone wants to grab lunch.”

 

Avery just watched him, nonplussed. “Uh...Tony, when I say take a break, I mean-”

 

“Go up to your room, cry for fifteen minutes, come back down and tell me everything’s fine?”

 

(Yes)

 

“...Practice the piano, actually,” Avery said, and Tony pursed his lips together. “What?” He protested, “I’m teaching myself Clair de Lune. And you know as well as I do that if we go out for lunch we’re not going to be back until midnight.”

 

(Plus I’m afraid I’m going to break down in front of everyone)

 

“I mean, are you not going to be able to finish everything tomorrow?” Tony sighed, fiddling anxiously with his phone. “Look, I’m- I’m sorry, I’m not trying to, like, pressure you to hang out or anything.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, grimacing. “I just...this morning, and I’m worried about you and I really need to stop thinking about abstract algebra for a few hours and, I mean, I guess I could just go down to the workshop or something but I’d much rather do something with you if for no other reason that I’m going to worry my ass off if I don’t.”

 

There was a long silence while Avery digested that massive, rambling sentence and two opposing instincts warred each other in his head. One insisted that self-care was important and he should go with Tony, hang out with Thor and Bruce or Steve or Shuri or whoever, get his mind into a better place so that he could be productive tomorrow. The other hissed at him that more social interaction was the last thing he fucking needed right now, that pretending to be okay won’t actually make him okay and god, he couldn’t go _one fucking day_ without obsessively criticizing himself, look at him-

 

“Avery?” The sound of Tony’s voice yanked him out of the spiralling thoughts and he nodded hastily.

 

“Yeah. OK. Break,” he acquiesced, and Tony looked pleasantly surprised at the speed with which he gave in. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he squinted at the screen before grinning.

 

“Great! Sounds like Steve’s free, how does Italian sound for lunch?”

 

___

  


It actually turned into a good day, which in hindsight made it seem pretty much inevitable that everything would go to shit at the end.

 

They’d picked up Steve on the way to the restaurant, and Avery had to resist the overwhelming urge to reach over and knock his and Tony’s heads together as the two devolved into a pair of blushy middle schoolers. Thor, Bruce, and Shuri had joined them afterwards to kick around the mall and eat french fries, and Bucky came back from work halfway through the pizza-party-and-Ghostbusters-marathon at Thor’s house that followed.

 

It was the best kind of boredom- the anodyne glow of the TV illuminating greasy cardboard boxes strewn across the carpet, Shuri absentmindedly braiding Thor’s hair as she and Bruce discussed the physics of proton packs, Steve doodling on Bucky’s arm, Avery with his face in a pillow stretched out over Tony’s lap. It didn’t take long for him to be lulled to sleep by the comforting monotony, and he was shaken awake at 1 a.m. to Tony whispering that as much as he hated to miss The Real Ghostbusters animated series, they really needed to go home.

 

(Howard might still be awake)

 

Tony shook him again when he didn’t respond and he pushed the negative thoughts away, pulling himself groggily up off the couch and running fingers through his pillow hair as he followed Tony out the door. The car ride was quiet, both of them too tired to exert even the minimal effort required to plug in the aux cord and turn on some music, and by the time they’d gotten back home Avery had very nearly fallen asleep again.

 

A door slammed shut next to him and he jolted awake with a cry of surprise, before whipping around to glare at Tony, who grinned at him through the window. Rolling his eyes, Avery hauled himself out of the car as well. It wasn’t until he actually bumped into him that he realized Tony had frozen in the doorway, and he frowned, drawing in a breath to ask what was wrong and-

 

The light was on in the kitchen.

 

At least, he presumed it was the kitchen, although it was hard to tell from the foyer. Howard’s office was upstairs, the library and his bedroom were on the other side of the house from where the faint glow was emanating from, and there really was nowhere else he would logically be at this hour of the night and he was _definitely_ drunk and they stood in the doorway for several slow, painful seconds before Tony quickly stepped in, pulling Avery with him, and closed the door quietly behind them.

 

“I don’t think he heard us.” Tony’s voice had instinctively dropped to a hoarse whisper, which Avery mirrored.

 

“I think you’re right.”

 

“Maybe he passed out at the kitchen table again,” Tony muttered, “let’s go.”

 

Avery nodded, hand slipping instinctively into Tony’s, eyes glued to the light as he followed his brother through the foyer, through the TV room and the library, every footfall amplified in the silence. In his imagination, the sound ricocheted off the walls, shot across the house and into the kitchen…

 

He shook his head. This was ridiculous - even if Howard was awake, there was no way he’d hear them over the alcohol undoubtedly clogging his senses. Hopefully.

 

Tension continued to hang over his head, though, not letting up until they reached the base of the staircase and he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The steps creaked softly underfoot, but still no activity came from the kitchen, and halfway up Tony paused to sag against the railing and whisper a relieved “we made it.”

 

Then his phone rang.

 

They stood frozen for half a second, and then Tony was scrabbling blindly at his pocket to shut the damn thing off and Avery had taken off, lurching up the stairs 3, 4 at a time, blind panic overtaking him as his feet slipped and his knee smashed into the corner of a step and exploded in pain. Tony cursed and jabbed at his phone screen until the ringing stopped.

 

“Who the _fuck_ was calling you?” Avery hissed out as he hauled himself up, and Tony made a frantic gesture.  


“I don’t fucking know!” He glanced over his shoulder. “Come on, there’s no way he didn’t hear that-”

 

As if in response, a slurred “Boys?” emanated from the kitchen and the blinding pain in Avery’s knee was immediately swept away by a wave of adrenaline.

 

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Howard Stark demanded, voice darkened by whiskey, and Avery had already bolted up the rest of the stairs and ducked around a corner before he realized that Tony hadn’t followed him.

 

No, Tony was still standing frozen on the stairs, waiting for Howard.

 

“Tony, don’t.”

 

No response.

 

“Tony, please, come upstairs-”

 

A terse gesture, heavy footsteps, and Avery, burning with shame, ducking back behind the wall.

 

Silence.

 

“Where’s your brother?”

 

“Asleep,” Tony responded evenly - the tone, Avery knew all too well, that he only mustered when he was scared out of his mind.

 

Howard grumbled. “Fuck’n...wake him up,” he muttered angrily, and Avery’s blood turned to ice.

“What-” Tony spluttered, “dad, it’s 1:30 in the morning, I’m not _waking him up_ -”

 

There was a loud thump and the sound of Tony scrambling backwards, and then a yell poured out of Howard’s mouth and Avery bolted to his room.

 

__

 

_You shouldn’t have left him-_

 

_There was nothing I could do!_

 

_You could’ve stepped in, you could’ve distracted dad._

 

_He wouldn’t want me to-_

 

_Who gives a fuck what he wants?! You’re a goddamn coward, always letting him take the fall for you._

 

_I’m not-_

 

_Don’t try to deny it._

 

_I-_

 

_You’re a coward. You’re a fucking coward, you know you are! Every single time, you run away. He’s stepped in front of you more times than you can count and not once have you done it in return. You never try to protect him - you never try to do anything for him! You’re worthless! Absolutely fucking worthless!_

 

_…_

 

__

 

“Avery?”

 

(Don’t come into the bathroom, don’t come into the bathroom, don’t come into the bathroom)

 

“Avery, please…” Knuckles rapped gently on the bathroom door. “I know you’re in there, Avery, please just answer me.”

 

(Don’t come in don’t come in don’t come in)

 

The knob turned, and Avery hurriedly pulled his shirt down and shoved the box of Band-Aids back into the drawer.

 

Not a second later, he found himself staggering backwards, Tony’s arms wrapped tightly around his middle, head warm and wet on his shoulder and _fuck_ was that blood-

 

“I’m so sorry,” Avery choked out, “shit, Tony, I shouldn’t have left you to face him alone, I just panicked, I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry…” Tony pulled away, and Avery withered when he saw the shallow cut stretching from Tony’s chin up to his left cheek. “Oh shit, what happened?”

 

Tony swallowed. “My head hit the wall funny, it’s not that bad, it just stings a little.” He shrugged, a sad little attempt at nonchalance. “I’ll dress it before going to bed. I just...I wanted to make sure that you were OK.”

 

Of course. _Tony_ wanted to make sure that _he_ was OK. He hadn’t been yelled at, been hit or kicked or shoved or whatever Howard had done this time, and Tony wanted to make sure _he_ was OK. Of course he was OK.

 

(The three red lines drawn on his side, burning beneath his ribs, said otherwise)

 

The words stuck in his throat, and Tony understood, and he pulled Avery into another hug that was softer and less desperate because the first hug was for Tony and this one was for him.

 

 

 

“Good night, topolino mio,” he whispered, just like Mom used to, and then he left.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I? didn't mean? to give this a kind of cliffhanger-y ending? but I'm TIRED and I want this chapter to be OVER AND DONE WITH so you're just gonna have to deal I'm sorry I'll try and put ch. 3 out sooner
> 
> come scream at me on tumblr @gaygarbagebaby and @tonystarkpunchme

**Author's Note:**

> come scream with me on tumblr, my url is gaygarbagebaby there too!
> 
> if anyone even fucking THINKS about shipping tony and peter I'm gonna slit their throat and dance on their corpse


End file.
